


Somewhere Beyond The Blue

by PBJellie



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Gay Character, Christianity, Fluff, Guidance Counselors, Inappropriate Humor, Platonic Relationships, Sexual Humor, youth pastor craig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 03:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Youth Pastor Craig ends a service and is approached by a blonde student, who needs to talk. He does his best to give good guidance.AKA: I write a Youth Pastor Craig fic.





	Somewhere Beyond The Blue

**Author's Note:**

> The Title is from the Jim Reeves song "This World Is Not My Home." Here's YPC, but I did it, and without any angst.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen,” Craig smiled at a group of students, bowing his head after making brief eye contact. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Glad to see the new faces!” He shouted, letting his voice carry to the back of the church, echoing off of the stain glasses windows. 

“Pastor?” A small voice squeaked out, a blonde boy, maybe fourteen, but this was a junior high group, so surely he was younger. 

“Call me, Craig. I’m just a person, like you,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Okay, uh, nnn, Craig?” The boy asked, eye darting around the room. 

“Something bothering you? I haven’t seen you around, did one of your friends bring you? I give out candy bars for friends, so don’t be shy,” Craig laughed, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. 

“What? You, man, you give out bribes for the church? That seems, ngh, that seems wrong,” the boy complained, frowning at the altar behind Craig. 

“Well, you know, gotta get them into the building. Lesser of two evils. Do you want your candy bar?” 

“Ngh, I guess, I mean, if you were going to give me one anyway,” the boy started, making eye contact with a few fleeting moments. “But I didn’t, man, I don’t, no friends.” 

“Everyone’s got friends,” Craig cooed, walking towards an office on the far side of the room. “I’ll get you one though. They’re just plain Hersey’s, is that alright?”

“Are you going to, man, are you going to molest me!” The boy shouted, yanking on his hair. “God, you’re giving me a candy bar so I’ll let you touch my penis!” 

“It’s uncool to take the Lord’s name in vain,” Craig huffed, turning the handle. “Also, I don’t molest the congregation. We’re not Catholic.” 

“Was that, nnn, was that a church rape joke? You’re, man, you’re sick!” The boy stood firm, watching from the worship hall, not following the man. “I came, nnnn, God, I came to talk with a pastor, and you’re, and you’re all I’ve got?” 

“You can talk to me,” he called from the office, rummaging around in his desk for the pack of chocolate bars. “I like dark humor, it’s a weakness. We’ve all got them. Mine are just jokes, candy, and Jesus.” 

“Jesus is your weakness?” The boy asked with a scoff. “What are you, man, like, ugh, like gay for God?” 

“Good one, yep, dig at the openly gay youth pastor. That’s cool. Does it feel good?” He asked, unwrapping a chocolate bar, and tossing another to the boy. 

“You’re gay, like, man, like gay, gay, not any of that happy is gay, ngh, bullshit?”

“Yeah, as you so eloquently said, gay gay. I am indeed gay gay,” Craig said as the boy nibbled on a single square of chocolate. 

“Oh, man, I’m sorry man, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean, I, oh God. I didn’t mean to, ngh, insult you. You’re lame, but I’m not, nnn, homophobic,” the boy blushed, looking at his shoes. Was that a hole in the sneaker? It was snowing outside. It was always snowing outside.

“It’s forgiven. They give you that kind of power when you become a pastor,” he smiled, wadding the leftover wrapper into a ball. “So what did you want to talk about? I didn’t get your name.” 

“It’s, uh, nnn, my name is, it’s Tweek,” he said, rocking back and forth on his feet as Craig sat down on a pew. 

“Okay, sure, you’re name is Tweek.” 

“It is!” Tweek protested. “I wouldn’t lie, man. It’s a church, nnn, God looks extra hard in church.” 

“I don’t know if that’s true,” Craig smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your problem? I’ll give you some guidance, if you want it.” 

“I wouldn’t be here, if I, man, this is dumb,” Tweek crossed his arms, shoving the remnant candy bar in the waistband of his jeans. “I’ll go. I’ll, thanks. I’m going.” 

“Stay,” Craig said, face straightening. “Something is troubling you. Maybe I can help?” 

“No one can. I must be a demon,” Tweek was wide eyed, pulling his misbuttoned shirt back over his hips.

“You’re not,” he leaned forward on his hands, watching the boy flinch under his gaze. “Why would you think that?” 

“I don’t know,” his teeth were clenched. 

“And you think God looks extra hard here? That’s your lying face when you think God is watching you?” Craig laughed.

“Maybe he doesn’t, ngh, look at all,” Tweek whispered, turning towards the ornate doors. “I’m not, I can’t.”

“Stay,” Craig argued, not bothering to rise to his feet. “If you leave, then I’ve got to drive home, and it’s snowing. Let me postpone rush hour.” He stopped walking, but didn’t turn back to look at Craig. 

“Fine, for you,” Tweek mumbled, shaking slightly. 

“Want to talk?”

“You’re weird,” he complained, still facing away. 

“You’re not wrong,” Craig sighed, resting his feet on top of a hymnal.

“Ngh, I know,” Tweek agreed.

“Come sit?” Craig asked. 

“Standing, nnn, my legs work.” 

“Little graces,” Craig joked, not bothering to move. “Do you go to the junior high in town?” 

“What? No!” He screeched, wringing his hands through his hair. He stomped towards Craig, collapsing into the pew next to him. “Do I look, do I look like a kid?” 

“You sat through my youth sermon on a Wednesday night,” he snorted, clasping a hand on his back.

“Don’t touch me,” Tweek shrinked away.

“Because you’re homophobic?” Craig rolled his eyes, pulling his hand back. 

“No! Not, I’m not! I said I’m not. I don’t want some creepy old, ngh, some old man touching me. I don’t like touching,” Tweek ranted, pressing his leg into the far end of the bench. 

“Okay, that’s fine. Did somebody touch you before?” Craig asked, slowly articulating each word. 

“What? Of course, ngh, man. Yes, I’ve lived a long time, and, nnn, of course someone has touched me,” Tweek stared at him, as if he was a feral animal, fingering the chocolate bar peeking out through his pants. 

“Oh, okay,” Craig straightened up, brushing off his jeans. “Well, let’s talk about that, I guess. That wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“What!” He nearly fell off of the pew, steading himself with both hands. “I’m not, oh God! Oh God! You think, ngh, you think I was, you think bad touch?”

“It was a good touch?” Craig asked, avoiding the boys face. “Was it a consensual encounter? It’s alright, if it was. I’m not going to rat you out to your folks.” 

“I just meant, nngh, like touch in general. People have touched me, not sexual. Not everything is, man, not everything is sexual!” 

“Oh, thank God,” Craig broke into an easy smile. “I’ve only had that conversation once before, but it’s a tough one. So one of your friends at school invited you here?” 

“No! I told you! I told you I don’t have friends!” Tweek sank into himself, still screaming. “I’m not, I don’t go to that school.” 

“Oh, okay. Are you from the next town over? Middle Park is pretty nice, I mean compared to North Park.” Craig asked, eyeing him up and down. The boy had pulled his feet onto the pews, wrapping his arms around his legs. 

“No. I don’t go.” 

“You don’t go to school? So you’re homeschooled?” Craig tried to fight back a thought about how it explained how weird this kid was. He knew it was neither helpful nor kind, so he ought to not think it. 

“No! I stopped. I dropped out. Ngh, I dropped out,” the boy repeated, burying his head into his knees.

“Well, you should go back. You’re what, an eighth grader? Eighth grade isn’t old enough to drop out. You should not do that,” Craig explained, working his hands in circular motions. 

“Sixteen, I’m sixteen. Not, ngh, not an eighth grader,” he whispered into his knees. Craig looked at the boy, not believing him. 

“You should still go back,” he shrugged. “Anyway, you’re a bit old for babysitting hour. Shouldn’t you be out, I don’t know, drinking booze, dabbing, and hitting on chicks? Why are you here instead of there?” 

“It’s snowing,” he fidgeted, chewing on a nail.

“Astute observation,” he groaned, glancing past the tangled blonde hair and out the window.

“I’m here because it’s snowing,” he repeated, running his hand through his hair. 

“So the snow makes you think of God?” Craig asked. “Who's gay now?”

“Still, ngh, you. And me, I mean, me too. But not like, not lame gay. That’s, ngh, that’s all you.” 

“To clarify, you’re just gay as in homosexual,” Craig chuckled, shaking his head. Tweek nodded, not bothering to make eye contact. “That’s okay. God doesn’t care about that stuff. It’s not important to God. You’re important to God, but your sexual attractions aren’t. You’re made in his image.” 

“So God is gay?” Tweek raised an eyebrow, turning to look. 

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Craig shrugged, looking at the boy who was unfurling himself. His jeans crept up his legs, showing his knobby ankles. Was he wearing those ankle socks, or did he not have any? 

“Ngh, you want me to lie?” He asked, pressing his feet into the floor. “I should go.” 

“No, you should stay,” Craig disagreed, “I can’t make you, but you don’t have a coat and it’s snowing. Do you have somewhere to go?” 

“No one does, really,” he mumbled, combing his hair into his face. “The church is warm. Ngh, I came in because I thought, nnn, you wouldn’t notice.” 

“You stayed to talk with me. You talked with me first,” Craig rationalized. “I didn’t make you talk to me.” 

“I didn’t, oh God, I didn’t want to get caught,” he squeaked, hands on his face. “You saw me, nnn, you looked right, right at me.” 

“Caught doing what?” Craig asked. 

“I sin a lot,” he murmured. 

“Most people do,” Craig countered. “It’s a design flaw. Just tell me what you were going to do. Were you going to TP the church? Steal something?” 

“No!” He shouted, shaking his head from side to side. 

“Then what? Telling the truth will make you feel better.” 

“It’s cold,” he whined, swinging his legs back and forth. “I just didn’t, ngh, I didn’t want to be cold.” 

“Cold is unpleasant,” Craig agreed, dragging on in a monotone voice. “We are programed to avoid unpleasantness, but letting it fester doesn’t help.” 

“Nnn, I wanted to sleep here!” He shouted, glaring at Craig. 

“Why here?” Craig asked, stumbling to his feet. “Why not go home?” 

“God! They made me, they made me sell, nnn, sell drugs! I didn’t want to. I didn’t goddamn want to,” Tweek shouted, springing up and storming towards the door. “Now, now you’re going to send me to, ngh, to jail. A criminal. I’m a criminal! I was going to, I was going to break and enter to sleep. And I don’t want to go to jail!”

“Hey, no one is going to jail,” Craig assured, chasing after him, grabbing his shoulder. “Drugs? That’s a lot for a kid, isn’t it?” 

“I am! Ngh, I put it, I put it in the coffee, for years. For years, man. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know, but I did. They said, they said I’d go to, nnn, to jail!” He turned to look at Craig, freezing in place. His eyes were wild, darting frantically to avoid his face. 

“You put drugs in people’s coffee? Why?” 

“The shop needed, ngh, to make money, or slavery! I’d be sold into slavery! Man! I can’t, ngh, I can’t go to slavery. I’m not, I’m not a good worker, they’d kill me. I don’t want, I don’t want to die,” he avoided his gaze, flinching underneath the unyielding hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, let’s sit back down, huh? It’s still snowing, isn’t it?” Craig steered him back to a pew, staring as he pulled the chocolate bar out of his pants. “Are you hungry?” 

“I have, nnn, I have a chocolate bar,” he blushed, eyes fixed on the ground. He shoved a square into his mouth, running his tongue over it, not bothering to chew. 

“I can make you some popcorn? It’s just the microwave kind, but I’ve got soda in my office, too,” he shook his head, rushing towards the office. “I’ll give you another candy bar too, huh?” 

“Don’t have to, you already gave me, ngh, chocolate,” Tweek whispered, sticking another square onto his tongue. “I don’t eat much.” 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Craig called out, microwave beeping in the background. Hopefully he didn’t char the last bag of popcorn to bits, not when there was a homeless kid in the church. “I’m not mad, no one would be mad at you for wanting to sleep inside. Snow is a bitch.” 

“Isn’t that a curse?” He asked as Craig dug around his mini fridge for a can of soda. 

“Yeah, but you know, forgiveness and all that jazz. I’ll try harder tomorrow,” he shouted to be sure that the boy, this Tweek kid, could hear him.  

“I don’t think that’s right.”

“Pretty sure it’s in the bible, at least once,” Craig groaned, drumming his fingers on his desk as he waited for the timer on the microwave to end. “It’s a long book.” 

“Ngh, are you really a pastor?” 

“Sure am,” he answered, burning the skin on his knuckles as he pulled open the popcorn bag. He brought Tweek the popcorn and the soda, watching him nurse the drink with hesitation. “So you wanted to sleep here? What was your plan?” 

“Hide,” he said over the can, “hide in the bathroom and, ngh, and when you close, stay in the warmth. It was bad, I’m sorry.”

“Is this the first time you’ve done that?” He asked, pulling his hands into his lap as he sat down next to him. 

“Uh-uh,” he squeaked as he plucked a piece of popcorn out of bag. “I haven’t. I never did it in your church, ngh. Walmart, they, nnn, they caught me and they said they’d call the cops. I don’t want, man, I don’t want to go to jail!” 

“I’m not going to have you sent to jail, okay?” Craig reassured, patting him on the shoulder again. “Have you been doing this for a long time?” 

“Just since the snow,” he grabbed a handful of popcorn, chewing as he spoke. “I don’t, nnn, like the snow.” 

Craig watched the boy eat, greedily finishing off the bag and his chocolate bar. Tweek smiled a little as he dug around the bottom of the bag, shaking it a little bit. He thought about what he was going to do, what was the right course of action? This was a first, a homeless teenager confiding in him. He’d call someone else on staff, once he was sure he wouldn’t bolt. 

“This was nice. Feels like a last meal, like, ngh, Jesus and the traitors.” 

“There was only one traitor, for the record,” Craig laughed. “And popcorn and soda is not body and blood, obviously. The metaphor leaves a lot to be desired.” 

“I never paid, ngh, that much attention,” he shrugged, draining his drink. “Do I have to leave? It’s cold.”

“God, no, you’re not going to sleep outside. I’d like to get CPS involved, so you can go back to school. You seem smart enough, even if you’re biblical knowledge leaves something to be desired.” 

“CPS?” His eyes went wide, dropping the empty can onto the floor. “They won’t, they won’t send me to, nnn, to jail?” 

“Nah, no way. You’re just a kid. Listen to The Offspring, ever? What’s the line, oh man, if you’re under eighteen, you won’t do any time.” 

“Is that old people music?” Tweek asked, puzzling over the reference. 

“No, what is with you kids? If it’s not rap and dubstep, then it’s old people music. There’s a step between teenager and old person, it’s called adult,” Craig ranted. 

“So old people,” Tweek reiterated, a grin breaking it’s way onto his face. 

“I mean, you’re allowed to be wrong,” Craig shrugged, relaxing a little to hear him joking. “But they’re not going to send you to jail. Unless like you murdered someone. But pouring drugs into drinks, because someone told you to, you should be fine.” 

“My parents,” he mumbled, bending down in his seat to pick up the can.

“You’re parents? Do you want to go back to them?” 

“No!” He shouted, then covered his mouth with a hand. “Oh God! No! They made me. Tweak Bros, ngh, the coffee shop. There’s meth, the powder, nnn, in the coffee.”

“In South Park? You’re from South Park? That’s a long walk,” and Tweek nodded. 

“I didn’t, ngh, I didn’t want to,” he grumbled, making indentions in the can with his fingertips.

“You seem like a good kid,” Craig agreed. “Will you sit here as I call some people?” 

“The cops,” Tweek dropped the can again. “I don’t want to, I’ll just, I should, ngh, leave.” 

“No, you shouldn’t,” he said sternly, the voice he saved for wrangling the middle school students to their seats. Intimidating, authoritative. 

“O-okay,” he stuttered, pulling his knees back onto the pew, crunching into a ball. “I, ngh, I deserve it. Bad people, nnn, they should be punished.” 

“You’re not being punished,” Craig dropped his tone back to something softer, the voice he used when the high schoolers cried about losing their true loves. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going to call a couple people on my cell phone.” 

He pulled out the phone, scrolling through his contacts for someone who would know what to do? The music minister? Maybe she would, but she might be just as lost as he was. The children’s coordinator might be able to do something, and he’d always had a soft spot for his ability to handle loads of screaming children. 

He settled for an old colleague, Father Maxi, hoping that he’d answer. He was raised Catholic, and with the Father being his childhood priest, he retained an affinity for the man. Even in all of his sternness. 

“Hello?” A groggy voice answered. “Is this Craig?” 

“Yes, Father. I hope you are well,” Craig responded, watching Tweek rock himself back and forth. “I seem to be having a bit of an issue.” 

“A crisis of faith? Read your bible, you know the drill.” 

“No, it’s a more, human, crisis,” he said as the boy let out little groans. “A homeless youth. I’ve never handled a case like this, and I am in need of guidance. He’s from your town, actually. Maybe he’s from your parish, he knows next to nothing of the Lord. Seems like your congregation.” 

“Very funny, Craig. Glad that you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” he replied sarcastically. “Despite being the only church in town, attendance isn’t what it used to be. But back to the matter at hand, did you feed the child? Is it a child or a teenager?” 

“He claims to be sixteen,” Craig stared at the boy, still skeptical. “Tweek, he says his name is Tweek.” 

“Tweek is in your presence? As we speak?” Maxi shouted, causing Craig to jump. 

“Do you know him?” 

“He’s been missing for quite some time. The town figured that he died. I thought with what the Tweak’s did it, you know with their drug bust and all,” Maxi sighed. “Bring him to the parish, and we’ll figure something out.” 

“Drug bust?” 

“The coffee house in town, they were lace the coffee with meth. Both awaiting trial, it’s been quite the ordeal. Just bring him here and we’ll go through the proper channels. They’ll make him sleep in a social worker’s office tonight. It’s kinder to keep him at the church, if the police allow it.”

“Alright, Father. I’ll bring him by,” Craig said, the boy pulling on his hair. “Thank you.” 

“Anything you need my son.”

“Tweek?” Craig set the phone down on the pew next to him. “Father Maxi says your folks are incarcerated. He’d like me to bring you to him.” 

“Am I going, ngh, to jail?” He whimpered, not bothering to look up.

“No, no you’re not. Did you know Father Maxi lead the congregation when I was your age?” 

“So like, fifty years ago?” 

“Try fifteen, smart aleck,” he chided, rising from his seat. “Father Maxi wants me to bring you that way. Would you feel comfortable riding in my car?” 

“Do you think God forgives people? Like, ngh, like really does it?” He asked as he stepped into the isle. “Even, nnn, if they were bad and don’t deserve it.” 

“No one doesn’t deserve forgiveness,” Craig said, walking to his office and grabbing his keys and his coat. He draped the coat on the boy’s shoulders, opening the door to the snow. 

“Does being old make you forget about double negatives?” Tweek snorted, sticking his arms through the sleeves. 

“I mean, maybe? I wouldn’t know. Thirty isn’t old.”


End file.
